Pictorial Prose

Pictorial Prose
Indulging my most lucid daydreams

Friday, December 24, 2010

Twas the Night Before Christmas

I was in ninth grade when my speech assignment was to recite " The Night before Christmas" I never  was really fond of standing up before a large group of people to talk, though I quickly learned the magic of humor and how it can ease tension and make everyone a little more comfortable. As the holiday quickly approaches and I have absolutely nothing done, the alternatives to dealing with it are few. I can either battle to get something done or give up, laugh or cry. Takes deep breath!
I think in everyone's life there is a teacher who made a difference who they remember for something they taught, and experience or was of an inspiration. Thomas Hoag was one of those people who you rarely saw without a smile on his face.  I stood in front of him eyes rolling making some kind of silly faces as he said to put expression to my story and I began to recite the night before Christmas. He stood there and he laughed and laughed and well it was an easy A.  I think when things are tough I think back and I see Mr. Hoag's rosy cheeks, sparkle in his eyes and yes his smile and I find myself smiling. 
There are many people who have and affect on us in one way or another. Sometimes it is for the better and other times we are not sure what we are getting till years later. I have been known to sugar coat things to get by in life, hang to the positive. In all reality that was just avoiding the obvious. So to simplify things this Christmas Eve I will just start by reciting " The night before Christmas" and hope that the new year will reveal to us the wisdom necessary to sift through our experiences and surface with the positive ones and of course to begin the year by letting go. Letting go of that which I have no ability to change and of course looking forward to finding the reigns of my own heart and taking control of my emotions. 

Twas the night b efore Christmas , when all through the house,
not a creature was stirring , not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care , in hopes
that St. Nicholas soon would be here. 

The Children were all nestled  and all snug in their beds.
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
and momma in her kerchief and I in my cap, 
had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprung from the bed to see what was the matter,
away to the window I flew like a flash, 
tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
gave the luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear.
a miniature sleigh, and eight tight reindeer,
with a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
and he whistled an shouted and called them by name,
Now Dasher , now Dancer , now Prancer and Vixon,
On Comet , on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen!
to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all.

As, dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
so up to the house top the courses they flew, with 
the sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too.and than in 
twinkling, I heard on the roof,
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof,
as I drw in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney , St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked
like a peddler just opening his pack. 
His yes how they twinkled , his dimples how merry,
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the head of his chin was as white as the snow
the stump of a pipe he held right in his teeth,
 and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed like a bowl full 
of jelly.He was chubby and plump a right jolly
old elf and I laughed when I saw him in spite 
of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his hand,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread,
he spoke not a word but went right to his work,
and filled all the stocking then turned with a jerk
and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving 
a nod up the chimney he rose.

He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
but I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a  good-night!


Reality is like a kaleidoscope, 
the same pieces different view.


I have tipped toed across a broad range of 
 emotions thus revealing the truth of .our vulnerabilities.

It is our expectations that  open the gates to disappointment.


It is true the river calls my name. 

Love is the single most over used word
and yet so few ever put it into action.

It is not what you think to do that is of importance,

it is what you have done that matters.


Anonymous said...

According to legend,[2] A Visit was composed by Moore on a snowy winter's day during a shopping trip on a sleigh. His inspiration for the character of Saint Nicholas was a local Dutch handyman as well as the historical Saint Nicholas. While Moore originated many of the features that are still associated with Santa Claus today, he borrowed other aspects such as the names of the reindeer. The poem was first published anonymously in the Troy, New York, Sentinel on December 23, 1823, having been sent there by a friend of Clement Clarke Moore,[1] and was reprinted frequently thereafter with no name attached.

Anonymous said...

Merry Christmas my friend! Enjoy the day with your children and family.

Rachel C Miller said...

Merry Christmas and have happy and safe holiday as well.

Rachel C Miller said...

Thanks for that little bit of trivia.